View my website and books at carolyn-elizabeth.com
I make my home in the One Who makes His home in me. This is where ordinary days meet faith and hope and where my heart finds joy in God's heart. Join me? The back gate is open.
Click on the image below. It leads to my website: carolyn-elizabeth.com
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
I Must Know Right Now How To Turn On The Hot Tub!
angels have pillow fights in Heaven? Because feathers are falling right out of
sky and it’s snowing this still morning.
fifteen but I still sit soft on bed and run my fingers through long tangles light
brown and blonde. Still marvel at creamy skin and long lashes resting light in
upward curve while she rests on pillow. I just amaze a moment like that.
touch light her sleep warm cheek. Lashes flutter and, “It’s snowing.” I lay my
head gentle on hers and whisper it.
not the five year old anymore. I know because a five year old springs out of
bed and pads barefoot race to back door and breathes breath smudge on window
pane and would run outside like that except mother stands prepared with boots
and coat in hand. No. She’s not five. She’s fifteen.
fifteen and it’s really great that it’s snowing because she knows my heart
melts faster than Texas snow.
play hooky today?” Because isn’t this a day to be glad and rejoice in? To slow enough
to hear what this silent flutter is loudly proclaiming, “This is the day that
the Lord has made!”
if angels can have pillow fights then can’t we flap snow angels and have snowball
fights while earth spins and clocks spin on classroom walls? Yes, we can. And
sleep a tad later and that’s fine. But just so she knows. It’s snowing. Later
she’ll sled the slope with a plastic garbage bag and her sister and cousins.
It’s just a slope. Not a hill. Because this is central Texas, after all. And
it’s garbage bag because who has sleds leaning ready against fence here?
I’m the one who runs barefoot to back door, cell phone in hand, because Imust know right now how to turn on the hot tub!
slip into the nearest footwear. And really? Well okay. I shuffle out in leather
slippers twice as large as my feet. Bless that big German who walks tall and
leaves his slippers everywhere but closet!
all flutter and feather and angel down this morning. I taste it and this yellow
dog walks funny. No running with tail arrowed this morning. Just timid steps
and paw prints gentle exploration. Her brow is furrowed question. Her first
Tub and Berries
is one-hundred and one degrees. Bowl of frozen summer berries in one hand,
towel in other and I’m so out of season in this hot-pink swimsuit!
is real feather flutter out here. Red bright cardinal. Black flock. Jay blue.
White-tipped some kind of bird. Hawk? Is there such a thing as white-tipped
hawk? It’s just all knockabout flutter and I’m tasting it. Sticking berry-stained
tongue out like I’m five. Tasting snow.
angel white and heaven pure, follows seeing magnificence magnified just as
surely as today follows yesterday. And that magnification was yesterday. I saw
drops. Yesterday.Streamed down every
branch and twig and cane and strung together and hung heavy and heavier til
tiny drop and teensy splash. Tenacious drops unbound and also strung together,
strong and also fragile, held tight and let go loose.
looked. Not at it. Into it.
Looked into a drop and saw
inside dangling water globe was pure magnification of what it hung from and
what was behind it. There! A droplet suspended at leaf tip and I saw large the
miniscule sawed edges at tip.
wondered right there yesterday, “Can hold it? Or would it burst and rivle
I opened finger. Held finger tip close beneath
water globe. It pulled stretch and in one single strain detached from leaf tip
to finger tip and there must have been a groan in the stretch and a plink in
the transfer. I just couldn’t hear it.
I held this globe up high and, there! Bit of branch and sky hung off my finger all
magnified and I felt like Atlas holding the world and I thought how God holds
earth and the heavens above it and the depths beneath and my little bubble too.
And how He holds my world
together when I groan in the strain.
I stretch to let go before I drop beneath the weight of too, too much.
I detach because I’m hanging upside down and God finger is right there to catch
me in the transfer.
feel the pull and let go and He is holding my little world right side up and He
holds it together. And His finger print is magnified there in my globe.
print large in my miniscule.
print too, because without that in His hand my world would splash, break and
door opens and there she is. Fifteen in hot pink bathrobe and snow boots! She
is so much like her mother, I laugh pink.
cardinal flaps snow at his earth-toned betrothed.
he washing her?”
is like fallen leaves. He blood red. And I watch it play out. The washing.
Blood red. Washing the color of
fallen. White as snow.
how on earth does that make any sense? It doesn’t. It makes no earthly sense at
all. Yet, here it is. Right there on earth.
all I can say is, “There is One who can
“Thank You for washing me like this.”
still earth color. But don’t be fooled. The washing happened.
held water globe yesterday.
my brain is bending.
tension holds wet drops together til they spill out under weight too heavy.”
The ponder hangs between me and God as I dip finger tip into hot tub water.
Break surface and draw up what? Drops of water bent globe-ish round til they
drop spill and tension breaks open.
"Holy tension broke under weight
of sacrifice spilt down.”He
magnifies the magnificent.
see it here. See it all spill and run together. Just see it because what is
behind it is magnified. There is magnificence in this little water drop I’m
And there is magnificence in this
little drop of life.
magnified in my life. And I see it. Here.
it’s His victory that my world is held together in His hand.
Sacrificial print in His hand
magnifies larger than my sin.
victory that His print is magnified in my little world bent like droplet.
holds this bent lens. Contact lense. It’s bent like that. And I see Him clearer
through contact. Through contact.
Through “when He holds me and my world in His hand right before His face” kind
it’s all victory His.
thirteen when He held His hand just under my bent world. Holy tension breaks
open and I spilt open. Just spilt it at thirteen, “The likes of me is a sinner
just like everyone else!”
God hand scooped up spilt me.
cried tear drop. Sweat drop. Blood drop. And all spilt. Under the weight of
sin. Under the weight of sacrifice for it.”
are cleansed by it.” The snow is so white!
held in this holy tension. And isn’t this the only tension that can hold any of
us together? Hold falling pieces and drip and bent spin, in peace hand?
knits. Nostrils flare tear sting. And wet drops spill down cheek and it’s not
because I’m in the hot tub
Hi! Welcome to this special little corner off the beaten track. I’m Carolyn-Elizabeth. The hyphen hasn't always been there, but it will be for the rest of my life because when the Lord gave me beauty for ashes and the oil of joy for mourning, He also gave me the most eloquent, simple hyphen and connected my given name to Carolyn-Elizabeth, which means, “Joyful Song-Set Apart for the Lord.”
Connecting with God’s heart is the theme which runs through each blog I post and book I write. My heart beats a little messy, but God’s heart is miraculous. So, I gather His miraculous into my messy and call it beautiful grace. Thing is, the holy whisper is stronger than any wilderness howl.
Whether you’ve been touring the world on-line and are just stopping by for a quick “hello,” or to kick your shoes off and stay awhile, your presence is a blessing to me. I hope my posts are a blessing to you.
Visit me on my website at: carolyn-elizabeth.com